The Inn at the End of the World

"[A] man . . .the other day pointed out that I was never bored. I hadn’t thought of that before, but it’s true: I’m never bored. I’m appalled, horrified, angered, but never bored. The world appears to me so infinite in its variety that many lifetimes could not exhaust its interest. So long as you can still be surprised, you have something to be thankful for."
-Theodore Dalrymple

Sunday, September 25, 2011

September 25 - St Finbarr

Today is the feast of St Finbarr, the patron saint of Cork, monk and missionary, and possibly bishop. The isle of Barra in the Hebrides may have been the site of one or more of his missionary journeys and be named for him.

"'When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.'"

September 24 - Our Lady of Walsingham

Today is the feast of Our Lady of Walsingham, the patroness of England and of the Catholic Ordinariate of the Anglican Use in England. There is a good history of the medieval shrine and the 20th century Anglican restoration here. There is a short history of the Catholic shrine based at the old Slipper Chapel, here. A portal to the websites of both shrines can be found here.

O God, who through the mystery of the Word made flesh didst in thy mercy sanctify the house of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and wondrously place it in the bosom of thy Church: Grant that being made separate from the tabernacles of sinners, we may become worthy to dwell in thy holy house; through the same Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Bl William Way

The English priest and martyr William Way was "hanged, bowelled, and quartered" on this day in 1588 in Kingston-on-Thames for the crime of being a priest. He is one of the blessed English martyrs. The good old Catholic Encyclopædia - which still lists him as venerable - has this to say about him:

Our martyr William Way received the first tonsure in the Cathedral of Reims from the Cardinal of Guise on 31 March, 1584, and was ordained subdeacon, 22 March, deacon 5 April, and priest 18 September, 1586, at Laon, probably by Bishop Valentine Douglas, O.S.B. He set out for England 9 December, 1586, and in June 1587, had been committed to the Clink. He was indicted at Newgate in September, 1588, merely for being a priest. He declined to be tried by a secular judge, whereupon the Bishop of London was sent for; but the martyr, refusing to acknowledge him as a bishop or the queen as head of the Church, was immediately condemned. He was much given to abstinence and austerity. When he was not among the first of those to be tried at the Sessions in August, he wept and, fearing he had offended God, went at once to confession, "but when he himself was sent for, he had so much joy that he seemed past himself".

It's interesting to see how short his clerical career was. There were four and a half years from tonsure to martyrdom.

Some Piping for the Weekend

Mirabile dictu: the piping for the weekend clip is actually up in time for the weekend this week.This is the RAF Halton Pipes & Drums playing their medley in the second heat at the world's last August.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Some Reels

Not a bagpipe to be seen in the entire clip. . . just some knock out reels on box and fiddle for what has turned out to be a fairly lazy Tuesday.

This was to be the day the carpenter and the painters finished up and we could start getting everything back in order. Alas, in the event, it was not to be. The painter-in-chief had a serious illness in the family so nobody came. Next week. They've promised. Cross their hearts and hope to die.

We shall see.

It's also our wedding anniversary. (The 31st, since you ask. No, I can't believe it either. It seems like maybe 5 or 6 years.) We were going to spend it minding the carpenters and painters. Instead, with no one to oversee, we went out to a restaurant we can't really afford. Herself had the rainbow trout and I had the swordfish which they do so well. It's like the tenderest filet mignon, only not as heavy. Lovely stuff.

And now we should be getting more things put away in the areas that the painters have finished with. But instead herself is having a nap and I am puttering around on the internet and listening to traditional Irish music.

Oh, yes. Irish music. The first tune in the clip above is familiar but I haven't the slightest idea what the name might be. But the second is the tune usually called Finnegan's Wake, although it was around under another name before it acquired the Finnegan's Wake words. The third one seems to be Back of the Haggard, although it's not a familiar arrangement. I could easily be wrong about that. The players are Roisín Ryan and Padraig O Sé.

A bird in hand

Some Piping for the Weekend

I put this up Friday evening but the Google/Blogger/Youtube Conglomerate seems to have eaten it.

So we shall try again. The original poster on Youtube had this to say: Bill Telfer and Matt Seattle play Noble Squire Dacre, All The Night I Lay With Jackey In My Arms, and Christenmiss Day In The Morning, three classic pipe tunes known on both sides of the Border. Bill Telfer composed parts 3 & 4 of Christenmiss Day.

Yesterday evening I had some no doubt brilliant insight into the music or the piping that is now lost to posterity. But they're good tunes even without my commentary.

The aromatic herb, basil (Ocimum basilicum) has long been associated with the Holy Cross. . . .According to a pious legend, the Empress Saint Helena found the location of the True Cross by digging for it under a colony of basil.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Friday the 13th. . . .

Fun with Insurance

Something called Smart Money was bundled in with this morning's paper. It's a magazine for people with pots of money to learn how (a) to hang on to the said pots of money and (b) to get even more pots of money.

Even though your servant does not, in fact, have even the requisite starter pot of money, I did page through it. It was, after all, free. And I came across a fascinating piece on all the remarkable things you can be insured for. (Or is it insured against?) I was reminded of that landlord in San Jose who insisted we have volcano insurance. We tried to talk him out of it. Who would sell us volcano insurance? Not a problem in the event. The risk management folks didn't bat an eye. "You want both ash and lava coverage?"

According to this article there is a policy available for whatever gives you the willies. You can be insured for/against "identity theft, gadget obsolescence, having twins, kidnapping and divorce." There is wedding insurance. And this: ". . . a contract with the Zombie Apocalypse Insurance Co. ($15 a year) provides peace of mind, not to mention postattack [sic] car repair, home reconstruction and, if necessary, relocation to a zombie-free locale." 15 bucks. Hmmm. One is almost tempted. . . which is probably why I don't have even the starter pot of money.

Saving the best for last, though, as did the author, you have to know about this one:

Bart Centre, the retired New Hampshire retail executive behind Eternal Earth-Bound Pets, says he's sold 263 pet-care contracts to Christians concerned about dogs and kitties left behind in the upcoming rapture. For $135, clients can count on pet-rescue services provided by one of 46 atheists who are guaranteed to remain on earth after the Second Coming. The only factor suppressing sales, he says, is the notion that the rapture will be followed by Armageddon. Who wants a policy for Fido, he says, "when the word's going to end 20 minutes later?"

Smart Money has a website here but this piece doesn't seem to be up. For those who don't believe a word of this post - which is probably everyone since the whole thing sounds preposterous to me - you can probably pick up a copy of the October number of Smart Money somewhere around town and take a look at page 95. I assure you in the immortal words of Dave Barry, "I don't make this stuff up."

Friday, September 02, 2011

Not Quite Latin

More Saints: The September Martyrs

A group of 190 martyrs who were massacred on September 2 and 3, during the French Revolution. The most prominent martyrs of this group were John Mary du Lau, the archbishop of ArIes; Francis de la Rochefoucauld, bishop of Beauvais; Louis de la Rochefoucauld, bishop of Saintes; Benedictine Augustine Chevreux, last superior general of the Maurists; Charles de la Calmette, the count of Valfons; Julian Massey: Louis de la Touche; and Carmes. One hundred twenty were martyred at the Carmelite Church on the rue de Rennes in Paris. They were all beatified in 1926.

I hadn't known of these martyrs. I mean, I surely knew of the massacres perpetrated by the revolutionaries but not that these in particular had been beatified. Thanks to Mrs Vidal, you can learn about them here. And do follow her links for more of the story.

2 September -- St Brocard

Albert, called by God's favour to be patriarch of the church of Jerusalem, bids health in the Lord and the blessing of the Holy Spirit to his beloved sons in Christ, B. and the other hermits under obedience to him, who live near the spring on Mount Carmel.

Thus begins the Rule of St. Albert, the "Holy Rule" of the entire Carmelite Order. The "B" whom St. Albert is addressing was long considered to be St. Brocard, the prior of the Carmelite community on Mount Carmel who requested a rule of life for his community from Albert, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem. September 2d was St. Brocard's feast day from at least the 15th century until the calendar changes that followed that late Vatican Council.

Sanctify Thy servants, Lord, who humbly beseech Thee on the feast of blessed Brocard, hermit of Mount Carmel and Thy confessor, so that by his salutary patronage our life maybe everywhere protected in adversity : through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Serendipity Dept: I went rummaging about on the web looking for a picture of the saint. I found an interesting icon and a couple of very modern - but acceptable - stained glass windows. But there's also a Brocard lake in France and a vintner or two (or three?) named Brocard. . . .hence innumerable pictures of bottles of wine.
But most interesting of all, a discovery of the ruins of an early church - circa 1200 - dedicated to St Brocard. Take a look here. But I wonder: do they have that quite right? My hazy recollection is that it is the church of St Mary but built by St Brocard. (I hate having no books available to refresh the memory.) But look at the pictures anyway. It's the nicest collection of pictures of the 1st Carmel that I've seen on the web.

Thursday, September 01, 2011

St Fiacre?

Maybe. Catholic Online says his feast day is today. The Roman Martyrology says it was last Tuesday. Perhaps one of the local Irish or French martyrologies gives 1 September? I'd look it up in Mrs D'Arcy's useful volume, but she's packed away in a box somewhere.

Well, even if it is supposed to be 30 August, the Catholic Online bio is such a delight it's worth putting up today:

St. Fiacre (Fiachra) is not mentioned in the earlier Irish calendars, but it is said that he was born in Ireland and that he sailed over into France in quest of closer solitude, in which he might devote himself to God, unknown to the world. He arrived at Meaux, where Saint Faro, who was the bishop of that city, gave him a solitary dwelling in a forest which was his own patrimony, called Breuil, in the province of Brie. There is a legend that St. Faro offered him as much land as he could turn up in a day, and that St. Fiacre, instead of driving his furrow with a plough, turned the top of the soil with the point of his staff. The anchorite cleared the ground of trees and briers, made himself a cell with a garden, built an oratory in honor of the Blessed Virgin, and made a hospice for travelers which developed into the village of Saint-Fiacre in Seine-et-Marne. Many resorted to him for advice, and the poor, for relief. His charity moved him to attend cheerfully those that came to consult him; and in his hospice he entertained all comers, serving them with his own hands, and sometimes miraculously restored to health those that were sick. He never allowed any woman to enter the enclosure of his hermitage, and Saint Fiacre extended the prohibition even to his chapel; several rather ill-natured legends profess to account for it. Others tell us that those who attempted to transgress, were punished by visible judgements, and that, for example, in 1620 a lady of Paris, who claimed to be above this rule, going into the oratory, became distracted upon the spot and never recovered her senses; whereas Anne of Austria, Queen of France, was content to offer up her prayers outside the door, amongst the other pilgrims.

The fame of Saint Fiacre's miracles of healing continued after his death and crowds visited his shrine for centuries. Mgr. Seguier, Bishop of Meaux in 1649, and John de Chatillon, Count of Blois, gave testimony of their own relief. Anne of Austria attributed to the mediation of this saint, the recovery of Louis XIII at Lyons, where he had been dangerously ill; in thanksgiving for which she made, on foot, a pilgrimage to the shrine in 1641. She also sent to his shrine, a token in acknowledgement of his intervention in the birth of her son, Louis XIV. Before that king underwent a severe operation, Bossuet, bishop of Meaux, began a novena of prayers at Saint-Fiacre to ask the divine blessing. His relics at Meaux are still resorted to, and he is invoked against all sorts of physical ills, including venereal disease. He is also a patron saint of gardeners and of cab-drivers of Paris. French cabs are called fiacres because the first establishment to let coaches on hire, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was in the Rue Saint-Martin, near the hotel Saint-Fiacre, in Paris. Saint Fiacre's feast is kept in some dioceses of France, and throughout Ireland on this date. Many miracles were claimed through his working the land and interceding for others. Feast day is September 1st.

He's probably never going to be the patron of women's ordination. You can find the quoted text here. There's a picture there, too. It's a medieval illustration by the look of it. The illustrator gives him a white tunic and a red scapular and capuche.

Exodus 16:iii

I.e.:

And the children of Israel said unto them, Would to God we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full; for ye have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole assembly with hunger.

Which, in The Inn's signature understated way, means we are back to having no kitchen for a few days while it's being titivated. We lost it for a three or four days when the countertop was being installed. After a brief respite, we are banished again. At the moment the walls are being prepped and industrial strength sanding is going on. Painting to follow. So everything portable has been packed away and it's a no-go area for a couple of days.

These guys are very good workmen. They really are. I'd recommend their professional skills to anyone.

But sometimes, you have to wonder. Yesterday, I made a pitcher of iced tea and brought it to the other room for safe-keeping. Somebody brought it back to kitchen. Somebody then packed it in a box with the other things being cleared out. Who the %$^x! packs away a pitcher of iced tea?? Might it be the same person who turned the said pitcher on its side so that the top of the box would fit better? Yes. Just what you're thinking: everything else in the box is soaked and tinted a lovely tan colour.

Tea stains many things wonderfully. Did you know that tea stains were the origin of khaki uniforms? The red woolen coats of the army in India were unbearably hot back when the Indian Empire was just a twinkle in the British East India Company's eye. Eventually they came up a tropical white uniform as something cooler. Trouble was, the white made the soldiers stand out rather well and made them splendid targets. But if you soaked the uniforms in tea you got a much less conspicuous, albeit a trifle tacky looking, uniform. In time khaki uniforms were officially issued and the unforms became, uh, uniform.

Where was I? Oh, yes. We are now ensconced in our partially furnished office with a few books, our computer, our smallpipes, a box of almonds and no iced tea.

O Holy Ghost the Lord, Who on Pentecost gavest the Church the gift of tongues that Christ might be known,
loved, and served by peoples of divers nations and customs: watch over the Anglican heritage within Thy
Church, we pray Thee, that, led by Thy guidance and strengthened by Thy grace, that Use may find such favour
in Thy sight that its people may increase both in holiness and number, and so show forth Thy glory; Who livest and reignest with the Father and the Son, one God world without end. Amen.

LITURGICAL REGENERATION
One might infer from this selection of links that I believe
"Liturgical Regeneration" is going to come principally, if not
exclusively, from a restoration of the traditional Roman Rite.
Such an inference would be largely correct. However, see also
the Anglican Ordinariate links above.

E-Mail:
High praise, recipes, & sources for
good reeds may be addressed to:

thesixbells AT verizon DOT net

(after, of course, you close up the
spaces, change the "AT" to an "@" and
the "DOT" to a "." Spambots delendi sunt.)
(If this looks new to you, you are quite right; the
old Tavernkeeper address is no more.)

An address for complaints may possibly
be added at some point. In the fullness of time.
Le cunamh Dé. Deo volente.

Should you, in fact, decide to drop me a note,
it is entirely possible that I may decide to publish
it unless you tell me not to. And even if you tell
me not to, things do get in something of a muddle here;
in a fit of absentmindedness, I might publish it anyway.
So discretion is always advisable.

"Two of the pubs near Oxford which C.S. Lewis frequented were The Trout and The Six Bells.
Some of Lewis's American readers had written him to inquire about his views on drinking
alcoholic beverages. His response to them was in no uncertain terms: 'I have always
in my books been concerned simply to put forward mere Christianity, and am no
guide on these (most regrettable) interdenominational questions. I do however
most strongly object to the tyrannic and unscriptural insolence of anything that calls
itself a Church and makes teetotalism a condition of membership. Apart from the more
serious objection (that Our Lord Himself turned water into wine and made wine the medium
of the only rite He imposed on all His followers), it is so provincial (what I believe
you people call small town). Don't they realize that Christianity arose in the
Mediterranean world where, then as now, wine was as much a part of the normal diet as bread?" C. S. Lewis: Images of His World by Douglas Gilbert & Clyde S. Kilby